


Sex Playlist

by Castillon02



Series: Sex Toy 'Verse [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, Humor, M/M, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 06:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19740406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02
Summary: Q's favorite vibrator is a bit...unique.





	Sex Playlist

“What’s this one do?” Bond asked. 

They were in what Bond privately thought of as Q’s cave of wonders, which was actually the secret sex toy workshop behind the bookcase. Every once in a while Bond wandered in and asked about one of the toys, usually as a prelude to taking said toy for a test drive. Q’s toys weren’t always _good_ , but they were always interesting. For a man who’d had as much sex as he had, interesting was far more intriguing than just ‘good.’

This time he was asking about a sinuous purple silicone thing that was clearly some kind of vibrator. Q had several of those, but this one, though not in pride of place on the display, seemed the most-used, ready on its charger and tilted at an angle in its case in a way that suggested Q was never going to straighten it because he’d only be taking it out again soon enough.

Q looked up from his desk, where he was working on something that looked a bit like a miniature Death Star. “Ah, that,” he said, and ducked his head. “It’s a bit silly, that one. But it works quite quickly, for those times when you don’t have time to spare.” 

“Oh?” Bond asked, prowling nearer with the device in hand. 

“Sometimes,” Q said, spinning his chair around to face him, “you’re masturbating with a vibrator in your arse and the rhythm gets a bit…predictable.”

“A terrible problem,” Bond said solemnly. He leaned on Q’s shoulder.

“So I was looking for a way to engineer a more unpredictable rhythm. You don’t want it to be _too_ random, of course,” Q’s hands flapped in a visual illustration of spasmodic variation, “but monotony is right out. And I thought…well, I’m not an expert on rhythm, but musicians are, so why not program the vibrations to respond to musical cues and let the songs do all the work?” 

Bond chuckled. He was starting to see where this was going. “What’s your get-off song, Q?” 

“It’s a very advanced piece of technology,” Q informed him. “It’s bluetooth connected and it has three different vibrating mechanisms that react to different instruments, harmonies, solos…” 

“What song do you use, though, Q?” Bond asked, grinning. “Is it ‘Wonderwall’? Does Oasis make you come?” 

Q snickered, dug in a drawer, and handed him a pair of headphones. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” He nodded out the door, in the direction of the bed. “Put these on, go get situated, and tell me when.” 

‘Go get situated.’ Ah, romance. 

Bond stripped off without ceremony and put Q’s expensive, noise-cancelling headphones on over his ears, which was a sex look he had certainly never rocked before, before settling himself on the sheets with the lube and the vibrator. He peeked to see if Q was watching. 

Q gave him a little wave from where he was leaning against the bookcase, mobile in hand. He held it up to show Bond that he was in his music program, not recording anything. Unless it was special circumstances, getting filmed while he had sex tended to make it feel like work. 

Since this was Q, though, and not work, Bond obligingly lifted his legs so Q could see as he teased himself, stroking himself with one hand and circling around his arse with the other. Only fair to give the good vibrations a proper chance to succeed, he thought, slipping a finger in. (The Beach Boys wouldn’t be Q’s style…or would they?) He smiled as Q’s free hand slipped to his cock as he watched. 

Before long, Bond was ready, fucking the vibrator into himself in short, sweet motions, clenching around the curves. It was nicely thick, but not challenging, and the head slid right up against that sensitive spot inside while the flare of the base nudged against his perineum. So far, so good. 

Bond gave Q a thumbs-up and closed his eyes, listening. 

The bass line was an immediate give-away. _Dun, dun, dun._

‘Another ones bites the dust.’ 

Bond burst out laughing. He also rocked his pelvis as low vibrations played against his rim and buzzed aganst his prostate. “Not–not bad,” he managed, palming himself, rubbing his arse against the sheets for more friction, needing—

Then Freddie Mercury started singing, _Let’s go!_ , and the vibrator revved like a Harley in response. “Fuck, Q!” He arched, head thrashing, heat spiralling through him.

Q, biting his lip and watching Bond with hot eyes, was no help at all. 

The song was only three-and-a-half minutes long, but it took less than that for Bond’s brain to dribble out his ears and for everything else to dribble out his cock. The aftershocks zipped through him, each final bass note jolting him from his toes to his fingertips. 

“Good god,” he panted afterward, staring at the ceiling. 

Q put a bottle of water in his hand and patted Bond’s chest reassuringly. “It’s always like that,” he said. “You took it beautifully.” 

Bond gulped the water down greedily. Then he tore off the headphones just in case Q got any ideas about seconds. Biting the dust once a day was enough. 

...Q, on the other hand, hadn’t gone yet. He wasn’t making any noise about it, but there was a lovely tent in his trousers, and Bond knew just what to do with it. 

“Your turn,” Bond said, patting Q’s thigh as though tapping him in. “And this time I get to choose the music.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
